I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate (13 page)

“Mr. Ryan,” I said, gesturing in his direction.

The bailiff glanced from me to Nancy. “You want me to speak with him?”

“No,” Nancy replied. “I’ll mention it to the judge so it will be on the record.”

“Everyone for the Ryan case,” the bailiff called a few minutes later.

To avoid confronting Mr. Ryan again, I went to fetch Lydia.

Just before we went into the judge’s chambers Lydia said, “I want you to know that I prayed for God to put me where he thinks is best. If it is not his will for me to stay at the Fowlers’, I will go wherever the judge says, and make the best of it.”

“Oh, Lydia!” I said, “You put everyone else to shame. I don’t know what the Lord’s will is, but in my heart I believe you belong with the Fowlers and I will do everything in my power to make the judge see it that way. And while I am at it, I have some other business to attend to in there on your behalf.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see!”

The judge glanced at my report, which was mostly a description of the Christian Farm Society and Lydia’s reasons for not wanting to go there.

At present Lydia Ryan is functioning at the highest level that she has in several years. She is attending school and doing well, working toward her goal of joining the vo-tech after Christmas. She is involved in church activities, including a drama group, is seeing her mother and siblings every few weeks. Her relationship with her foster family has grown even tighter, and she is particularly close to her foster sister/roommate. Breaking up this harmonious situation at this time is going to set Lydia back on the progress she has made.

 

The judge looked to the HRS attorney for his perspective. “In our opinion this child does not meet any of the qualifications for an abused or neglected child to be placed into state-supported foster care,” Calvin Reynolds began in a flat tone. “We are recommending a private placement at the Christian Farm Society. Mr. and Mrs. Ryan have agreed to sign the papers for her admission there.”

This was news to me. Mr. Ryan nodded at the judge. The judge scrutinized my side of the table. Since Kit Thorndike, the Guardian ad Litem attorney, had not been able to come, Nancy was on my right, with Lillian behind her. “What does the guardian say?”

Nancy pushed forward a copy of the guardian office’s motion for a change of placement pursuant to the Florida Rules of Juvenile Procedure and Florida Statutes 39.442. “We respectfully disagree with HRS’s position and are asking for Lydia Ryan to be placed in temporary legal custody of the department in foster care so the child might remain on a permanent basis in the same home where she now resides,” Nancy explained.

“Would you state your reasons?”

Nancy nudged me.

On the drive to the courthouse I had made an attempt to frame my argument but had not been able to do so. Something I had recently read resonated in my mind. At the risk of being late, I had turned my car around and returned to my office. For a film project I had been reading Lisbeth B. Schorr’s
Within Our Reach, Breaking the Cycle of Disadvantage.
Now, in the judge’s chambers, I reached for the book and opened to page 146.

“Your honor, I cannot dispute the facts of this case, and I must be accountable for changing my initial recommendations. I never would have suspected that Lydia and the Fowlers would develop a rapport so swiftly. But the fact is that they did.” I paused to make eye contact with Judge Donovan. “Your honor, every day you have the formidable task of placing children outside their homes and you must hope that they somehow find the love and security absent in their natural families in these surrogate ones. Now, almost despite the court—not to mention your appointed guardian, and the other professionals assigned to this case—something wonderful and unexpected has happened. Lydia and her foster parents have become deeply attached.” I quoted from the book. “ ‘The failure to develop strong early connections with someone, who in Professor Urie Bronfenbrenner’s phrase, “is crazy about the kid” has been found to lead, with haunting frequency, to an adult personality “characterized by lack of guilt, an inability to keep rules, and an inability to form lasting relationships.” ‘ Here we have a young woman on the brink of independence,” I continued. I looked around the room, trying to win sympathy. “If we sever this fragile bond now, maybe she will never form another one, and the self-destructive path she started down will lead to her ruin. Lydia is a special girl and I am proud to have gotten to know her.” My hands began to tremble. To steady them I pressed my palms to the table, and then without premeditation, I stood up. “Before I go any further I want to make a point for the record. For too long Lydia Ryan has been called ‘the girl who put a baby in a microwave oven.’ It has been acknowledged that she never did this, but still the label persists.” I stared at a few of the offending parties. “From now on I want it noted that anyone using this term is deliberately slandering her and I will take legal steps to have her compensated for damages.”

I slipped back into my seat and spoke more softly. “The Lydia Ryan I know sings and plays the guitar, is loving and funny. She likes poetry, especially Robert Frost. She knows all about ‘the road not taken’ and she is asking your honor to give her this chance to follow the road of her choice toward the happiness she seeks.”

“What are your other recommendations besides foster care placement?” Judge Donovan asked with some impatience.

I listed my requests rapid-fire. “That Lydia Ryan be permitted unsupervised and unrestricted visitation with her natural family as often as is mutually agreeable, that she be encouraged to continue her schooling to receive a high school diploma—and also receive ongoing assistance if she remains in school for higher education past her eighteenth birthday—that no change of placement be made without a court hearing, and that the appointment of the Guardian ad Litem be continued in this matter.”

“Any other comments?” The judge stared at Calvin, but true to his word, the HRS attorney did not enter any further arguments.

However, Mona jumped into the fray. “I know the guardian feels she has to safeguard Lydia, but she has to see it from our point of view. This girl has been charged with delinquency and is a certified risk to young children. What about the Fowler twins? Don’t we have a responsibility to them?”

“What do you think is the risk?” the judge asked her.

Mona hesitated, then awkwardly stated that Lydia had been in Valley View, and before that, had been the “paramour of a boy who was murdered in a gangland-style slaying.” She stopped to clear her throat. “At the last court appearance your honor ordered the guardian to find an alternative placement, but because she was unsuccessful, she wants the department to support this person from our limited funds.”

The judge nodded for me to comment. “I made several attempts to find her a private placement,” I stated, “but Lydia, as well as the Fowlers, believe that the Lord led her to them.”

Calvin suppressed a grin by pretending to scratch his nose.

“I would like to speak,” Stuart Ryan said.

“Go ahead,” said the judge.

“Why is everyone bending over backward to do what Lydia wants? After all, she is a known child abuser, she is listed in the HRS abuse registry computer and went to juvenile detention.” The abuse data base lists every known record of child abuse that has been investigated and not discarded. It is checked by employers hiring people to work with children and in court cases involving child neglect and abuse.

Lillian leaned forward. “Did you know she was in the computer registry?” she whispered to me. I shook my head.

Stuart Ryan’s voice deepened. “Lydia would do whatever she is told if she didn’t have some busybody do-gooder telling her she can get her way all the time.” He shot a nasty glance at me.

Nancy pushed her chair back and stood slightly. “I want it recorded that earlier Mr. Ryan made some threatening remarks to my guardian.”

“We can’t all be happy campers, Mr. Ryan, but I will not tolerate any inappropriate behavior in my court,” the judge said gruffly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Ryan answered, then flushed purple again.

“Now, do you or her mother have any reasons not to want her at the Fowlers?” the judge asked.

“I cannot pay child support there,” Mr. Ryan replied.

The judge removed his glasses and stared across the table at Lydia. “And is this what you would like?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I have prayed to stay with the Fowlers and I think that is where Jesus wants me to be.”

I looked over at Judge Donovan, whose stony face did not betray his thoughts. “Anyone else?”

“Now you can see why I couldn’t argue with her,” I said, unable to control my smile. “Maybe you are willing to fight those beliefs, but I surrendered.”

“I rule in favor of the motion for change of placement,” Judge Donovan said resolutely, and dismissed us all.

Nancy tapped me on the shoulder to remind me to leave, but I still was trying to figure out what had happened. “What—?” I asked, and dropped the Schorr book.

“Our motion. He approved our motion,” Lillian hissed as she handed me the book.

I caught Calvin’s eyes, which crinkled slightly in covert approval.

Lydia waited for me by the door, her parents having disappeared in a blink. “We won,” I said in case she was also confused.

“This is the first time I can leave the court with a smile,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” I said, turning her to face the judge.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, then ducked out the door.

“But what about being named a child abuser on the computer?” Lydia asked in a tinny voice. “Does that mean that if I ever have a baby someday, they’ll take it away from me?”

Nancy jumped in. “Absolutely not. Those records are wrong. Now that we know they exist, we’ll file the papers to get them expunged.”

“What does that mean?”

“Clearing your name from the computer,” I explained. “And while we’re at it, we’ll get your delinquency files expunged too. Right, Nancy?”

Nancy nodded. “From today on, everything will be new and fresh, and the only way for you to get anything bad on your record will be if you really do something wrong.”

Mona seemed impatient. “I have to stay for some other cases, and it’s too late for Lydia to go back to school. You want to take her home?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” I said.

As soon as we got in the car, Lydia asked, “Can I use your cellular phone to call June at work and tell her the news?” I showed her how to dial the number. “Hi, is Mrs. Fowler available?” She waited. “Hi, Mom, it’s me, Lydia. I’m on my way home!”

I held my breath. Until I saw the signed order placing Lydia in foster care, I was uncertain what we had won, but the language in it was stronger than I expected, saying that Lydia’s return to her parents would be “contrary to her health, safety, and welfare.”

All through winter vacation I held my breath as I hoped that Lydia would behave herself, but she had nothing but good reports. The one low point was when Lydia was tormented by sadness because her father would not permit a Christmas Day visit with the family. “I had presents for them, but he won’t let anyone accept them.”

“Did he have a reason?”

“My mom says it’s because HRS is trying to collect reimbursement for some of my foster care expenses.”

I held my breath when the time came for her to enroll at the vocational school, but they kept their promise and accepted Lydia into their program, where she enjoyed more autonomy and being able to complete work at her own pace.

I held my breath as the Fowlers moved to another home, worried that this might be an excuse to ask Lydia to leave. Instead they took another teenage girl, and soon Candace, Lydia, and the third sister became “the three musketeers.”

I held my breath when I went to see the assistant state attorney to clear Lydia’s files. Neither her shoplifting arrest nor assault charge would remain on her records, she assured me. I held my breath as I filled out the forms to have Lydia expunged from the abuse registry. The process took two months and the paperwork that came from the district administrator of HRS did not exonerate Lydia; her name was expunged because of a loophole. But it served the purpose.

Based on the May 1991 amendments to Chapter 415 of the Florida statutes, the person held responsible for a child, and thus designated as a perpetrator of abuse/neglect or exploitation, must be an adult, 18 years old or older. Lydia Ryan, who is alleged as the perpetrator, was not legally an adult. Therefore the report will be expunged.

 

I brought Lydia two copies of the report, one for her and one she could send to her parents. She read it several times, then said, “Now that I have a clean slate I really am born again.”

I held my breath as she began going with a boy who refused to attend her church. In a few weeks she decided in favor of the church. I held my breath when she started dating another boy she had known from her days with Teddy, one who had also taken drugs, but this time she would only date him at her church youth groups, and he joined willingly.

I held my breath when she confessed that she was falling in love with someone else, a boy in her vo-tech class. I held my breath when she phoned me to say she had an emergency, then deflated with relief when she only needed a ride to her therapist because June was sick. On the way we talked about her new love. “Now that I realize sexual relations are a sin, I won’t have them again until I’m married.”

“I know you feel that way right now, but when a boy and girl really care for each other, sometimes they find they cannot wait.” I then launched into a presentation of birth control methods as well as AIDS, and told her I would never think less of her if she asked for more information about any of this. She promised she would.

I held my breath many months later when she reported she and the latest boy were engaged and things were “getting serious.”

“What are you doing about contraception?” I inquired without missing a beat.